"What did you just say?"
In a luxurious yet understated castle on the outskirts of the capital, Duke Benedict paused mid-task, looking up from his desk with a mix of disbelief and irritation.
"Are you telling me that my daughter, Arina, has returned from the Beast Forest with… a son?"
"Yes, my lord," the steward replied, bowing slightly. His tone was calm and precise, betraying no emotion, though his meticulous efforts to verify the information—seventeen times, no less—hinted at the shock he had felt.
"How did this happen?" The middle-aged duke, exuding an air of authority, set down his pen, his interest in administrative matters now entirely eclipsed by this bizarre news.
"Well, my lord," the steward began, "you are aware of why Miss Arina went to the Beast Forest in the first place."
"Yes, that was my mistake. I shouldn't have let her see those confidential documents. But what about this… son?"
"The boy who claims to be Miss Arina's son appeared at her side as they were leaving the Beast Forest. Our intelligence agents have confirmed this."
"And what's his background?"
"That has yet to be determined. We've contacted some of the knights who were part of Miss Arina's team. According to their reports, during their exploration of the otherworldly gate, they encountered a terrifying beast far beyond their abilities to handle.
"Just as they were about to be slaughtered, the boy claiming to be Miss Arina's son appeared. In his presence, the beast behaved like a submissive servant. So…"
"So my dear daughter brought back a grandson for me," Duke Benedict muttered, his expression a mix of bewilderment and frustration. He couldn't quite articulate the complexity of his emotions.
In normal circumstances, the Frankel family's lofty status meant that many would try to establish ties with them, so a sudden claimant to their bloodline wasn't entirely unexpected.
However, the audacity of someone pretending to be the son of a sixteen-year-old girl bordered on absurd. It was almost laughable—except for the fact that this supposed imposter wielded such overwhelming power that it couldn't be ignored.
The duke was well aware of the strength of the knights his daughter had taken with her. For a creature capable of rendering them helpless to bow to this boy, the implications were staggering.
"Yes, my lord," the steward replied, his tone still measured, though he, too, struggled with the strangeness of the situation.
"So, this so-called grandson of mine is accompanying my daughter to the capital as we speak? What do you think his goal is? What does he want from the Frankel family?"
"That, I cannot say."
"That's fine. They'll be here soon enough. In a few days, I'll meet this so-called grandson of mine and see for myself the kind of person who dares to claim such a title."
"This is my home. So? Do you dare go in?"
Arina, seated on her horse, gestured toward the towering castle ahead. Even from a distance, its fifty-meter-high outer walls were imposing. The adventuring party she had returned with from the Beast Forest looked on in awe, but Arina's attention was focused on the black-haired, golden-eyed boy hovering beside her.
"It's been days now. My father must already know about your existence. Who knows what's waiting for you inside? If you go in, you might not come out," she teased, though her tone carried a mix of genuine warning and curiosity.
"Having confidence in your family is good, but blind confidence is unwise," Muria replied casually, his hands clasped behind his back as he hovered effortlessly in the air. A small blue-scaled dragon perched on his shoulder, gazing disinterestedly at the grand castle. Without a second glance at the stern-faced knights stationed along the open gates, Muria floated toward the entrance.
"Hey, wait! This isn't the wilderness—you can't just barge in!"
Though still irked by Muria's insistent claim that she was his mother, Arina had come to recognize over the past ten days that he bore her no ill will. On the contrary, he seemed oddly protective of her.
Unwilling to let him roam unchecked in her family's home, she hurried to catch up, her golden hair trailing behind her.
"Are you Young Master Muria?"
No sooner had Muria stepped into the castle than a middle-aged man with a warm, courteous smile approached him. Bowing slightly, the man gestured politely. "The duke is waiting for you in the study. Please, follow me."
"Oh," Muria said indifferently, nodding slightly. "Let him wait."
The air in the grand corridor grew tense. The knights standing along the walls turned their sharp gazes toward Muria, their hostility evident.
Roar!
Sensing the unfriendly stares, the small winged serpent dragon perched on Muria's shoulder raised its head and let out a ferocious, guttural roar. Though its size was diminutive, its roar was laced with a terrifying aura of violence, instantly silencing the room.
The knights, stunned by the wave of oppressive energy radiating from the little dragon, found themselves instinctively stepping back. Those with weaker constitutions broke out in cold sweats, their legs trembling.
"Stop! Stop! We're all on the same side—let's not fight!"
Just as the tension in the corridor reached its breaking point, Arina rushed in, her silver armor glinting as she moved between Muria and the knights. She grabbed Muria's empty shoulder, attempting to de-escalate the situation.
"Miss, the duke has requested that you and Young Master Muria come to the study for a discussion," the steward interjected, his voice calm yet firm.
"Got it. I'll take him there now," Arina replied, her expression resigned as she gently tugged at Muria's arm.
Despite the absurdity of introducing someone as her supposed son to her father, she had no choice but to accept the situation for what it was. No matter how strange it was, it was now a reality she had to face.
"Have your father come greet me," Muria said, halting abruptly. His tone was calm but carried a weight that made the knights and even the steward freeze momentarily. "He's not qualified for me to go see him."
Arina stopped in her tracks, glaring at him. "That's my father! If you insist on calling me your mother, then he's your grandfather. How does he not deserve the courtesy of you meeting him?"
Muria glanced at her with a faint smile. "If that's the case, then why is your grandfather not coming to greet me? Let him know that I'm waiting."
The knights in the corridor clenched their fists, their tension palpable, but Arina waved them down. Her face was a mix of frustration and disbelief.
"You… rebellious child!" she shouted, exasperated.
"Call me whatever you like," Muria replied nonchalantly. "Either way, I'm staying with you until my mother's true consciousness awakens."
"Great. Just great. My life is officially ruined," Arina muttered under her breath, shaking her head as she reluctantly led him toward the study.
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